CHAPTER 28: THE POWER OF LAUGHTER


O'Bannon had just finished tying his shoes when he heard a knock on the door.

"I got it," he called to Mireet, who was still in the bathroom. He went over to the door and opened it to find George Weasley standing there.

"Mornin', Jimmy."

"Hey, George. Mireet's still getting ready. She should be done in a few minutes. C'mon in."

"Thanks." George stepped inside and looked around the hotel room. He started to wince, then stopped. "Um . . . so this is where you're staying."

"Yeah, well, it ain't The Ritz, but it's the best we can do right now."

George shot him a quizzical look. "The Ritz?"

"A Muggle phrase. Nevermind. Anyway, thanks for inviting us to breakfast."

"It's the least I can do. Besides, The Leaky Cauldron makes great potato cakes."

O'Bannon winced. "Um, dude. You do know that me and Mireet are banned from The Leaky Cauldron."

"Not to worry." George held up a calming hand. "I had a talk with Tom," he referred to the pub's owner, "and gave him my word as a wizard that you two would be on your best behavior."

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate that."

"Don't mention it. I'm always happy to help a friend."

A bolt of joy went through him. How many times had he feared he would never hear George refer to him as a friend? George and Lee and Ginny and Ron and Katie and the other Gryffindors. At times he still couldn't believe they had all resolved their differences.

Except Angelina.

Bitterness slithered through him. Angelina seemed determined to hate him for the rest of her life. Part of him wanted to be upset about that, but then he thought of the comments she gave that lying bitch Rita Skeeter for her article. Being pissed off at a friend was one thing. But stabbing him in the back like that . . .

He found it hard to put any more effort into reconciling with Angelina.

Mireet came out of the bathroom a minute later and greeted George with light kisses to both cheeks. The trio left the inn and Apparated to The Leaky Cauldron. Nervous ripples went through O'Bannon as he noticed Tom's eyes lock on him the moment he entered the pub. He gave him a small wave, along with the most disarming smile he could pull off. Tom just glared at him.

A witch seated them and took their orders.

"So what do you two plan to do with yourselves today?" George asked as they waited for their food.

O'Bannon shrugged. "We haven't really thought about it."

"Well, I can't think of anyone else you need to seek forgiveness from. Maybe it's time for you to enjoy the rest of your stay in England. Speaking of which, how much longer do you plan on staying?"

O'Bannon glanced over at Mireet, then turned back to George. "Um, to be honest, we haven't really talked about it yet. But, I don't think we're gonna be here much longer. Like you said, we've patched things up with everyone we need to. I know Mireet wants to spend some time in France, and we still need to go to Bulgaria to see Harkorth and the other Durmstrang guys from the Triad."

George nodded. He gazed at the table for several seconds before speaking. "Still, all that shouldn't take the rest of the summer to do."

"No, I guess not." O'Bannon's brow furrowed, wondering what George was getting at.

"Well, . . . I was thinking how it just won't do for you to come all the way to England, make up with everyone . . . most everyone, and then up and leave. You might do well to stay the rest of the summer, split your time between here and The Continent, get reacquainted with everyone."

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing that. But I don't think we have enough money to stay in Europe for the rest of the summer."

A brief smile flashed over George's face. "Not to worry. You know, I do have a spare room over the shop. You're more than welcome to it."

Mireet let out a soft gasp. "George, that is so kind of you. But we do not want to impose on you."

"Well since we're all friends again, you won't be imposing. Come on, I insist."

O'Bannon looked to Mireet. She pressed her lips together in thought, then gave him a slight nod.

"All right, man. Consider us your new tenants."

"Wonderful." George sat up straighter. "Also, and this is entirely up to you, I could always use some help in the shop. If you two wouldn't mind . . ."

"Since we will be staying with you, I think it only fair that we earn our keep," Mireet said. "I would be delighted to work for you."

A wry grin crossed O'Bannon's lips. "Well, even though it means I'd have to call you Boss." He gave a faux grimace, which George chuckled at softly. "I'm down with being a proud employee of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Brilliant." George's smile grew wider. "This ought to be fun. You two, me, Ron, all together again. It'll be just like it was back at Hogwarts."

Suddenly George froze. His smile faded and his shoulders sagged.

"George?" Mireet tilted her head, a concerned look on her face. "Are you all right?"

He stared up at her, his smile replaced by a grimace. "Um . . . yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Mireet didn't seem to buy it. Neither did O'Bannon. As their food appeared in front of them, he could guess why George's mood had changed so quickly. He had been wrong when he said this would be just like their days together at Hogwarts, because one important part of that time was missing.

Fred.

XXXXX

That night, O'Bannon and Mireet checked out of McAuliffe's Marvelous Inn and moved into the guest room above George's shop. The next day, they donned the standard-issue magenta robes and began their first day of work for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. As George showed them around the shop, O'Bannon kept shaking his head in amazement. Back at Hogwarts, he had always been impressed by the stuff the twins had come up with, even the ones he'd fallen victim to like the Canary Creams and the Sit-And-Scratch Chair.

Now he realized he'd only seen a fraction of their products back at Hogwarts. The sheer scope of their creativity blew his mind. George introduced him and Mireet to dozens of items he never even knew the twins had come up with. Headless Hats, Box O'Rockets, Tickling Quills, Reverse Temperature Drink Coasters – Makes Hot Drinks Cold And Cold Drinks Hot – Troll In A Box, which when opened, had a troll head pop out and give a big, sloppy wet kiss to whoever held the box.

Remind me to stay away from that thing.

Along with marveling at all the stuff in George's shop, he had to memorize their locations in order to better aid customers. He and Mireet also learned how to use the cash register, take inventory, process mail orders, and make the numerous prank candies.

The first few days, while enjoyable, did have its rough spots. O'Bannon had to refer several customer inquiries to George, Ron or their assistant Verity because he couldn't remember the locations of the products they'd asked for. He'd accidentally let loose a Squirting Snitch that zipped around the store and sprayed Ron and half-a-dozen customers with a clear liquid that transformed their mouths into a duck's bill. Then there was the day he knocked over a box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. A cloud of impenetrable black spread through the entire store. Ron had groped around in the darkness, demanding to know what was happening, and unwittingly grabbed Mireet's . . . well, grabbed her in a rather inappropriate place. It took a whole week before he could even look at either of them, let alone speak to them. When he did, he apologized profusely, and begged that they never tell Hermione about the incident. Ever.

Before long, O'Bannon's mistakes were few and far between. He had the locations of 95 percent of the shop's merchandise memorized. He also became very adept at making prank candies. The shop always had a steady stream of customers, though Verity told him it was nothing compared to the two weeks prior to the start of term at Hogwarts. "That's when we're absolutely mobbed," she had said.

At the start of his third week working at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, O'Bannon had demonstrated a fake wizarding wireless that produced all sorts of obscene sounds, and the smells that went with them, to a boy named Euan Abercrombie, who would be starting his Sixth Year at Hogwarts in less than two months. After he made the sale he took out his wand and conjured a jet of wind that carried with it the scent of peppermint.

"Man," he said to Ron, who stood next to him. "As disgusting as that is, it is still friggin' funny."

"He's done better," Ron muttered.

Brow furrowed, he turned to him. "What was that?"

Ron whipped his head toward him, looking embarrassed that he'd been heard. He frowned and stared at the floor. "I mean, the stuff George comes up with. It's good, but . . . it's just not the same."

"Dude, what are you talking about? Look around this place. Look at all the cool stuff we've got. I'll bet'cha Fred and George didn't even come up with half of it until after I left Hogwarts."

"It's rubbish!"

A bewildered look came over O'Bannon's face as he watched Ron spin around and stomp into the back room. The outburst also caught the attention of Verity and two customers.

He followed Ron through the curtain. The youngest Weasley boy continued to walk away from him.

"Ron. Yo, Ron! What was all that about? What do you mean this stuff is rubbish?"

Ron stopped, his shoulders rising and falling with a slow breath. He turned around to face him. "A wizarding wireless that farts? Fred and George could have made that when they were First Years. Merlin's beard, George helped come up with a Portable Swamp and Shield Hats. That stuff was brilliant. Now . . . it's like with . . . with Fred gone, he's just not as creative as he used to be."

"I don't know. The place is still successful."

"But for how long if the best he can come up with are farting wireless sets and quills that tickle you? Course, if he still enjoyed working here, he might get some better ideas."

"What are you talking about?"

Lines of annoyance etched in Ron's freckled face. "You've been here nearly three weeks now, Jimmy. You must have noticed the way he acts by now."

With that, Ron retreated further into the back room until he was out of sight.

O'Bannon just stared after him, face scrunched, completely baffled. George seemed okay. He smiled at customers, laughed with customers. If anything, he seemed better in his shop than he did outside it.

Then he folded his arms and recalled all those scenes. Now that he thought more about it, many of those smiles seemed forced. And his laughter. Certainly nowhere near as hearty as it had been back at Hogwarts. In fact, sometimes he seemed to cut his laughter off in an instant, almost like he felt he shouldn't be doing it.

He also started thinking about the products throughout the shop, at least the newer ones. He compared them to some of the things he'd seen Fred and George experiment with back at Hogwarts. Kissing snowmen in the images of Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. Snot-Rocket Specials. A spell that made you see guys in women's underwear. Back then they seemed to constantly push the envelope with their gag products.

That didn't appear to be the case now with most of George's newer stuff.

Even more worrisome was the fact George could not be genuinely happy working in a shop filled with items meant to make people laugh.

Later that night in their room, he told Mireet what Ron had said to him.

"I just wish there was some way to help him." He scooted forward on the couch, resting his clasped hands on his lap.

"I don't know if there is a way to help him," said Mireet, who sat next to him.

"You helped me, and look what a mess I was."

"That is true. But your problem was you would not talk about what was troubling you. George does. But it does not seem to help him much."

"I guess. I mean, he does seem better than when we saw him at the dedication ceremony last year. He's not as withdrawn, he's more talkative, but when you consider what Ron said, well, he's certainly not the same George we knew at Hogwarts."

Mireet frowned. "I don't think he will ever be that George again."

O'Bannon scrunched his eyebrows together as he stared at her. "That doesn't sound very hopeful."

"I'm sorry. What I mean is, at Hogwarts, George had Fred, who was more than a friend or a brother. He was his twin. They were inseparable, to the point neither of us could think of them as just Fred or just George. They were always Fred and George. Fred was a part of George. How can anyone get over losing part of themselves? It . . . it is the same with my father. Mother has told me he used to be a much warmer and sociable person before Markese was killed. He has gotten better, obviously. But he is not the same as he once was."

O'Bannon sank back into the couch. Maybe it was foolish to hope George would go back to being the way he'd been at Hogwarts. He thought of himself now compared to what he'd been like almost six years ago. After everything he'd been through, all the pain and loss he'd experienced, there was no way he could ever be like his 16-year-old self again. He'd gotten better at dealing with everything that had happened during the war, but that period of hell had changed him, permanently in some regards.

George, however, still could not bring himself to fully cope with Fred's death. And O'Bannon had no idea how to help him do that.

XXXXX

Two days later, during a relatively slow period in the day, George sent O'Bannon and Ron into the back to do an inventory of the Muggle joke items the store sold.

"It's been a while since we did one," George explained, "since we don't sell very many of them."

O'Bannon took one shelf, Ron another. He couldn't help but smile at the merchandise George kept in stock. Some of it was lame even by Muggle standards, like fake vomit and goofy-nose glasses. The red hot gum seemed to be doing well, since there was only half-a-box left. Same with the sneezing powder. Plenty of Whoopee Cushions and joy buzzers, though.

He then came to a box of little plastic handguns and picked one up.

"Here, I don't remember seeing those before." Ron stepped over to him. "What are they?"

"They're water pistols."

"Pistols?" Ron's face lit up in recognition. "Hang on. Hermione told me about those things. That's another name the Muggles have for guns, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And I guess you can shoot these particular ones underwater?"

"What? No, these things shoot water."

Ron's face crinkled in puzzlement. "I thought guns shot, um, bowl-ecks."

"Bullets. And the real ones do. Actually, these are more toys than a joke item. I wonder why George would have these."

Another thing he found curious was the color of the water pistols. The ones he'd played with as a kid had been one uniform color like green or red or orange. This one, however, had a polka dot surface. The other pistols also had unique color schemes. One had zebra stripes. Another reminded him of rainbow sherbet. Yet another sported purple and green zigzags.

"So how does it work?" asked Ron.

"Simple. You just pull back the little stopper thing here, then just fill it with water." He accomplished the last part taking out his wand and casting an Aquamenti Charm. After pushing the stopper back in, he looked back up at Ron. "Okay. Now we're ready to -"

"Jimmy." Mireet suddenly appeared, striding down the aisle. "I just received an owl from Katie. She wants to know if it would be all right if we met her and her boyfriend for dinner this Saturday at six o'clock instead of five."

O'Bannon didn't respond. He just stared at her, then looked down at the water pistol, then back at Mireet. Evil thoughts floated through his head.

I shouldn't. She'll kill me.

Again, his eyes flickered between the water pistol and Mireet.

Fred and George, you guys have thoroughly corrupted me.

He raised the water pistol and squirted his girlfriend.

"Jimmy!" Mireet jumped back, a shocked look on her face. "What has gotten into you?"

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He chuckled. "C'mon, hon. It's only water."

Mireet scowled at him as she removed her wand and cast a Drying Charm on herself. All the while she muttered something in French, something that did not sound very pleasant.

I am so gonna pay for this later. Still, he couldn't help but grin widely as he used his wand to evaporate the remaining water in the pistol and put it back with the rest. "Well, I think George has enough of these things. Moving on . . ."

He was about to continue down the aisle when he noticed Ron standing statue still, gaping in Mireet's direction.

"Dude, what up?"

Ron did not respond. His eyes bulged even more.

"Dude! You okay?" Perplexed, O'Bannon followed Ron's gaze.

His jaw dropped at the sight before him.

"Oh crap."

Mireet was covered in polka dots. Her face, her hair, her robes. Every square inch of her body sported dozens of multi-colored circles.

Just like the water pistol he had used to squirt her.

Crap! That damn thing was charmed!

"Why are you both staring at me like that?" Mireet asked, her eyes narrowing at them.

O'Bannon's mouth went up and down wordlessly. He looked to Ron, who seemed even less likely to respond. Neck muscles sticking out, he turned back to Mireet and drew a slow breath.

"Um . . . because we're captivated by your . . . beauty?"

Mireet's face scrunched in a mix of bewilderment and annoyance.

"Oi!" George rounded the corner and started toward them. "You two done with . . . the . . ." His voice faded as he came to a stop, gawking at the polka dot covered Mireet.

The French witch swung around to him. "Not you too. What is wrong with you men?"

George tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with us? Um, you may want to take a look at yourself, Mademoiselle."

Letting out a long, irritated sigh, Mireet looked down at her robes. Her eyes widened. She blurted something in French, something that denoted surprise, or maybe anger. Probably both. She examined her sleeves and her hands. Then she held out one of her polka dot covered hands and used her wand to conjure a mirror. When she brought it up to her face, she gasped again, her jaw about to hit the floor.

O'Bannon gulped. I'm so dead. I'm deader than disco.

Mireet spun around to face him, nostrils flaring. She dissipated the mirror in her left hand, while her right hand clutched her wand tightly. Very, very tightly.

O'Bannon forced a smile. "Um, you know, you really make polka dots look sexy, sweetheart."

Mireet's shoulders rose and fell with slow, angry breaths. Suddenly her wand snapped up. O'Bannon brought his arms up in front of his face.

"Accio Water Pistol."

One of the little plastic guns flew out of the box and into Mireet's hand, the one with zebra stripes. Off to the side, he noticed George chuckling to himself.

"Oh look." She held it in front of her face, inspecting it. "This has the same colors as that baseball team you hate. The Yankees."

O'Bannon's eyes widened. Dread coursed through him. "Aw no. C'mon, hon."

Mireet used an Aquamenti Charm to fill he pistol.

"I can't wear those colors. I'd get booted right out of Red Sox Nat-"

Two streams of water nailed him just below the neck.

"Aw crap!" Within seconds black and white stripes covered his entire body.

George hacked out a laugh.

"And what do you think is so funny?" Mireet whirled around on him.

"I see you found my Wacky Water Coloring Guns." George's smile grew by the second. "Had to get special clearance from the Ministry's Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department to put charms on them. Hmm, must've gotten put on the regular Muggle shelf by mistake. Oh well, they certainly work as advertised, wouldn't you agree?" He emitted another sputtering laugh.

Mireet scowled, summoned over another water pistol and filled it.

"Now hang on a tic, Miss Miradeaux. I am your boss and -"

She squirted him. Seconds later George's robes and skin turned into a kaleidoscope of hot pink and green.

O'Bannon pointed at him and exploded with laughter. "Oh, dude! And I thought I looked stupid."

George summoned a water pistol for himself. In less than a minute the three were leaping and crouching around the aisle, constantly summoning pistols and squirting one another. Different patterns sprouted all over them. Mireet's polka dots combined with spirals of canary yellow and blue. Waves and stripes of purple, orange and red covered George. Silver, gold and green diamonds and squiggly lines mingled with O'Bannon's pinstripes.

"Look at you two!" George got off two squirts. "You look ridiculous!"

"Us? What about you?"

All three of them stopped. They looked down at themselves, then at each other, examining the misshapen patterns of different colors.

A laugh exploded from George's mouth. Strong, loud. He doubled over, dropping both his wand and water pistol, laughing so hard he shook.

O'Bannon threw his head back and joined in the laughter. Even Mireet had forgotten her anger and added her laughs to the air. Before long both O'Bannon's throat and stomach began to hurt. He tried to stop and give himself some time to recover. Then he heard George's bellowing laughter and continued with his own, to the point tears formed in his eyes.

A magenta flash streaked by the corner of his eye.

Gasping for breath, he looked up and noticed Ron, the only one of them not sporting a crazy color scheme, storming off, his head down.

"Oi! Ickle Ronniekins," George called out. "Where are you off to?"

Ron didn't answer as he disappeared from sight.

"Ron?" George straightened up, staring in the direction his brother had gone.

The laughter soon faded. O'Bannon's face twisted in puzzlement. He knew Ron was the king of mood swings, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what would make him stomp off like that. All they'd been doing was laughing.

"Um . . . I will go check on him," Mireet volunteered as she headed after Ron.

XXXXX

Mireet scanned the front of the shop and found no sign of Ron. She shook her head. What could have upset him so? They had been having a good time in the back, laughing with one another. When was the last time they had done that together?

She then remembered that Ron had not participated in their water fight. Did he feel they excluded him?

Nonsense. He could have joined in at any time.

Maybe Ron did not know that. She remembered from Hogwarts how he usually felt left out and overlooked. Perhaps they should have encouraged him to join in the fun.

"Verity." She spotted the witch near a display stack of Skiving Snackboxes. "Have you seen Ron?"

"Oh yes. He was headed upstairs. Is he all right? He looked rather out of sorts."

"I will see to him. Merci, Verity."

The other witch smiled and nodded to her.

Mireet walked behind the cash register and headed up the steps. She found Ron halfway upstairs, sitting on a step, his head hovering over his knees.

"Ron? Ron, are you all right?"

He looked up at her. Mireet froze when she noticed how red Ron's eyes were. She tensed. Something had to be very, very wrong for Ron to come close to crying.

"Ron?"

He shifted uncomfortably and stared at the wall.

Mireet sat on the step just under him and placed a hand on his knee. "Ron, why did you leave like that?"

No answer.

"You could have joined us, too. We were not excluding you. I apologize if we gave you that impression."

"It's not that." Ron's gaze remained on the wall.

"Then what is it?"

Ron bit his lip and turned back to her. "He . . . he laughed."

"Who? George?"

Ron nodded. "I mean, he really laughed. Like, back at Hogwarts. It's like he was really enjoying himself, not pretending to for all our benefit. I don't think he's laughed like that since . . . well, since Fred died."

A smile grew on Mireet's face. "I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps he is getting better."

"You did it, you know. You and Jimmy. You actually got him to laugh like he used to."

"I do not know about that. It was not something we planned. It just happened, and -"

Mireet gasped in surprised as Ron shot forward and wrapped his arms around her.

"Thank you." His voice sounded strained. "Thank you."

Mireet hugged him back, tears forming in her eyes. "I am just happy we could help in some way."

After a minute or so, Ron drew back, looking embarrassed. She knew he'd never been much of a hugger.

"Um, yeah. Um, thanks." His eyes darted all over the place. "Um, could you, um, do me a favor, Mireet?"

"Anything."

"Um, could you please not tell George . . . actually, could you not tell anyone about . . . this?"

She gave him a sympathetic smile and gently squeezed his arm. "You have my word."

"Thanks." He managed a quick grin before exhaling and getting back to his feet.

A few minutes after they returned to the shop, and Jimmy and George were convinced Ron was all right, George decided to take advantage of their recent water fight. He grabbed the box of Wacky Water Coloring Pistols and paraded around the store, with Jimmy and her in tow.

"Don't just feel blue, folks!" he shouted to the customers. "Feel red and orange and yellow and green and any other color you can think of. Wacky Water Coloring Pistols! A combination of Muggle and Wizard ingenuity! Step right up! Free demonstrations!"

The free demonstrations consisted of George or one of the customers squirting Mireet or Jimmy or Ron or Verity and turning them all sorts of colors and patterns. She did not mind at all, not with all the laughter echoing through the store, the loudest of which belonged to George.

Then there was Jimmy, laughing right along with everyone else. Genuinely laughing. As with George, she had a hard time remembering the last time Jimmy laughed in such a way. These past three years had not given any of them much to laugh about. But now . . .

"C'mon, try it with one in each hand." A smiling Jimmy handed a pair of water pistols to a young boy. "Just like they do in Muggle action movies."

He stood back and let the boy squirt him with both guns, laughing as erratic patterns of violet, bronze, yellow and red covered him.

A lump formed in her throat. Could it be she finally had the real Jimmy O'Bannon back?

XXXXX

"Damn, how long does it take for this stuff to fade?" O'Bannon examined his clothes and skin. Most of the crazy patterns had faded, but he still had a bluish-yellow tint from head to toe. "Maybe I should take a picture of myself and send it to my parents. Man, would they freak."

He looked across the living room at Mireet, who stood quietly, just looking at him. She also had a colorful tint to her body, though hers consisted of a blend of violet and red.

"Maybe I should get a picture of you." He smiled. "'Cause those colors make you look even sexier, and this time I'm not saying it to try and save my own ass. I mean it."

"Merci," she said in nearly a whisper.

O'Bannon strode over to the window and peered down at the darkened street of Diagon Alley. He shook his head, his smile growing. "Man, this was an awesome day. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun. And what about George?" He turned back to Mireet. "Did you see how he wa-"

He never finished the sentence. Mireet practically tackled him. He managed a brief gasp of surprise before she kissed him, longer and deeper than any kiss she had ever given him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body against his, kissing him as though it would be the last time she would ever do it in her life.

O'Bannon inhaled deeply when Mireet pulled her lips away, heat spreading throughout his entire body. "Wha . . . Wha . . . What was that all about? I mean, not that I'm complaining. But wha . . ."

Mireet laid a hand on his cheek. "It's just that today . . . today you seemed so happy. I haven't seen you act this way in so long. It is like you are finally allowing yourself to live again, and not let the war rule your life."

He smiled, then gently grasped her hand, pulled it in front of his mouth, and kissed it. "I'll be honest with you. I can't remember the last time I laughed like that or just . . . just goofed around. Four months ago I couldn't even imagine doing anything like that, and now . . ."

He stared into Mireet's face. Her eyes glistened with tears, even though a smile had formed on her face. But he also saw something else radiating from those eyes and that perfect, beautiful face. His stomach and legs quivered. Never in his life had he seen a look like that. Even so, he knew exactly what it was.

Love. Pure love. So strong he could almost feel it. He held his breath, wanting to burn this moment into his head forever.

He kissed her fiercely. Their mouths opened wider, their hands roaming up and down their backs. She gasped as his lips moved to her neck.

"Make love to me, Jimmy."

His head snapped back. He looked at Mireet, his heart racing. Did he hear right?

"Make love? Really?"

"I told you I wanted to wait until the time was right. That time is tonight."

She took hold of both his hands and led him across the living room. His head swirled. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. He had thought about this moment, dreamed of it, hoped for it, for over five years. Now tonight . . . Merlin's beard, it was actually going to happen!

They finally reached the bedroom. Mireet let go of his hands, and laid down on her back. She stared up at him, smiling seductively, her blonde/violet/red hair splayed around her.

She had never looked more beautiful.

He leaned down over her, gazing into her eyes.

"I love you, Mireet."

Her smile widened. "I love you, too, Jimmy."

He lowered himself toward her and kissed her.

TO BE CONTINUED